


i don't care what you think (as long as it's about me)

by cryingat7am



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Childhood Friends, Drinking, House Party, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Kibana | Raihan, Temporarily Unrequited Love, along with many more to come, as does marnie, but there is definitely established marnie/gloria, gloria is only mentioned in passing, piers makes a brief appearence, the rating is mostly for swearing rn but it will get very raunchy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26698714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingat7am/pseuds/cryingat7am
Summary: how is a bloke supposed to handle being absolutely head-over-heels for his childhood bestfriend/flatmate when the guy's straight?or, well... unless?
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	i don't care what you think (as long as it's about me)

**Author's Note:**

> hello, hello! my first real publish for this fandom and for these two... while i have actual fics in progress, this is actually an adaptation of a roleplay between my fiancee and i! so, forgive us if the characterization is horrendous. there was no beta, and i am very much American, i am so sorry.

Even with it turned all the way down, the light from his phone's screen is absolutely blinding in the darkness of yet another dimly lit house party Piers’ gone to the trouble of hosting. Raihan squints in an attempt to shield his eyes from the harsh glow and try to better reread the texts he had been sent earlier. Way earlier. Leon said he'd be out of the muay thai studio by seven, head home to change from something less sweaty for an outfit better suited for kicking back and be on his way. It's almost eleven. That math does not add up, no way the total travel time plus switching out clothes would take a whole… Four hours?   
  
_Been a minute,_ he thinks with a tinge of worry the man’s gotten lost with that kind of skewed time frame. Before he has enough of it himself to grow too concerned, one of the riff raff shouts at him to not be a wanker and join them for something like the fifth round of shots he’s had so far. He bites back at them, posting this one on his private story and looking forward to checking his tags tomorrow.  
  
The moment the group dissolves back into the modest crowd he’s getting offered a scarily full plastic cup of what he can only assume to be beer.  
  
“Naaahhh, mate. Later. Not about to get myself royally pissed before Leon’s here, yeah?”  
  
“‘Unno whatchya talkin’ ‘bout, bloke’s r’ght there.”  
  
Brow raised, Raihan turns to where he’s being pointed toward and the alcohol he’s consumed up until this point makes it impossible to hide how he beams as he spots the rich violet hair and lost eyes searching the packed space.  
  
“Leon!” Raihan calls with embarrassingly excited enthusiasm, nudging his way through the people to the other. He underestimates the distance between them and clumsily stumbles, saving himself from the floor by slinging an arm around his shoulders.   
  
“Finally made it, you prick. Had me all sorts of worried, didn’t know if you’d make it.”  
  
“You already drunk, mate?” Leon asks with a laugh as an arm tucks around his waist in an effort to steady him. Oh, does that _do_ things to him.   
  
“Oh, sod off.” Raihan laughs himself, though pointedly pushes off Leon to straighten himself up and create some distance because after all this is _still_ his _childhood bestfriend/roommate/life-long crush_ _and you don’t need to go laying all over him, thanks.  
  
_ Especially not when he smells all freshly showered. _Fuck.  
  
_ “Want something to drink? Eat? They got _snacks_."  
  
“ _Please_ , I’d love a drink. Need to catch up with you, after all.”  
  
“Let me grab you something,” he says as he turns for the folding table littered with unknown amounts of booze and a couple stacks of cups hidden amongst the bottles.  
  
Raihan stops, however, considering how lost Leon looked looking for _him_ , the 6’4” giant.  
  
Rocking a step back, he reaches for whatever he can grab—a wrist, apparently—and tugs the other along with him to the set-up. “Second thought, better come along. Don’t need you wandering off and getting lost _somehow._ ”  
  
The way Leon laughs all loud and boisterous from the bottom of his stomach _does_ things to him. It conspires with the alcohol, and he feels downright betrayed.   
  
“I wouldn’t have gotten _lost indoors at a party_.”  
  
Raihan hums in disbelief, loud enough that hopefully Leon hears him over the cacophony, “You sure about that, mate? All the times you couldn’t find the loo when we were in the dorms says otherwise.”  
  
“Most of those were our first term!” Leon complains with an easy, but obvious, punch to the shoulder. It nearly has him spilling the cinnamon whiskey he’s pouring. “Everything in those buildings look alike. Especially at three in the morning.”  
  
He’s rolling his eyes at the rubbish excuse as the way Leon huffily crosses his arms over his chest catches the corner of his vision. Raihan shakes his head as he portions a generous shot of rum into the other’s ‘ _catch-me-up_ ’. He spins the already-loosened cap of a bottle of coconut-flavored rum and after the splash over the rocks he fills the rest of the cup with some orange-and-other-undisclosed-berries juice.  
  
Considering the one, two… The many multiple hard liquors, Raihan takes a test sip to gauge if it’s safe to hand over or not.  
  
Raihan barely refrains from sputtering.  
  
“Ugh! God… So, shite— It’s maybe… bit too strong,” he chokes out. “And that’s coming from me, so… Don’t feel bad if you can’t manage it.”  
  
“‘Can’t manage it’?” Leon gawfs as he reaches to take the cup. “What, that supposed to be a _challenge_?”  
  
“Depends what you think it is,” Raihan answers with an easy shrug as he pours himself what could be considered a sizable shot of coffee liqueur before he makes himself comfortable against the cheap, makeshift bar made out of a fold out party table.  
  
He raises an eyebrow at the taunting smirk Leon flashes before he watches the man throw back an absurdly huge first sip. Holy _shit_. The thought has got to be mutual if the way Leon’s face twists up in disgust as he does his best to swallow down the potent as hell cocktail is at all any indication.  
  
Once it’s apparently all down, Leon coughs, thumping his chest lightly. Raihan joins in, patting his back rather than his front.  
  
“... Buuut doesn’t seem like I really need to worry, if you’re having such a hard time after one go.”  
  
“Oh, you’re not _worried_?” Leon’s asking as the grin from moments earlier returns with the appearance of _that_ glint. The one that lights his already bright eyes with the spark of competition. _Oh no._ “You ought to know better than to assume I’d give in that easily!”  
  
He’s right in the middle of amusedly huffing a chuckle when his batshit madlad of a best friend throws back nearly the _entire rest of the cup’s dangerous concoction in one fucking go_.  
  
“W-woah, mate, Jesus—”  
  
Raihan’s not _stopping_ Leon. Oh, no, not in the least. But the sudden total recklessness takes him all kinds of off-guard. No matter how many years he knows the bloke, it never fails to startle him just _how_ stubbornly careless Leon can be.  
  
Not that he really has room to complain when he finds the attitude _absolutely sexy—  
  
_ _Hey! Whoa, no. You stop that right now, you’re wasted and have no control of any part of you._ ** _Any part.  
  
_** “Oh… _Fuck_ you, Raihan,” Leon groans, leaning heavily against the fake bar set-up. “For making that drink so damn _big_. Ugh…”  
  
“To be fair,” Raihan begins and he takes a measured sip of his own drink to hide the awe in his voice. “Did _not_ think you’d _completely demolish it._ Which, may I remind you, you did of your own volition. So no blaming me when you feel shite in the morning.”  
  
“‘N no goin’ ‘n gettin’ sick,” Piers grouses after materializing from the crowd, nudging his way up to the table before refilling the cup he’s brought with him. “See any o’ that happenin’ ‘n yer gettin’ the cleanin’ bill ‘n officially uninvited. Forever.”  
  
“Oh, no, I’ll be fine,” Leon reassures their gracious “host”, coughing into the side of his fist.  
  
Raihan offers up a lopsided grin, flashing his sharp canine as he shrugs with feigned helplessness at the openly unamused glower Piers turns on him next.  
  
“...”  
  
Piers’ tired glare crumbles like ash from a bowl with an exasperated, defeated sigh. Tossing his head in a dismissive shake, he offers a lazy wave as he disappears back into the party as completely as he’d emerged from it.   
  
_Terrifying.  
  
_ “Goddd, that drink was _raaank_ ,” Leon groans, well… whines, more like, after the beat of silence. He makes a strained noise of anguish, unintentionally partially crushing the plastic cup still in his hand. He angrily tosses it in the nearly full rubbish bin. “I’m _totally_ blaming you if I wake up feeling like shite.”  
  
“Oi, what’d I just say, huh?” Raihan asks, sharp but laughing. “‘Specially on account of I’m about to get us the most premium of all snacks. Unnngrateful.”  
  
Leon laughs himself as Raihan continues pulling him around like a mother with her toddler in Tesco. They push into the kitchen, door swinging shut behind them. The space is quieter, the music muffled by the walls and shut doors, and only a couple others are hanging about. Maybe on account of no one’s supposed to be in here as per Piers’ rules.  
  
He waves at a mutual acquaintance as he wanders from Leon to raid the freezer. Hanging an arm over the top of the door, Raihan sips his shot as he leans down to peer into the cold space.  
  
“Oh, _here_ we go,” he says with a grin, setting his cup atop the fridge to pull out The Goods. “Man, Piers really does have premium shit.”  
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“What d’you want?” Raihan asks, words beginning to slur as the alcohol begins to catch up. Fast. He might’ve been drinking the last couple of hours, but at a steady pace. But since just before Leon’s arrival, he’s had almost equal to that in a much shorter time.  
  
“We’ve got Pizza Rolls, Bagel Bites… Hot pockets,” he looks to Leon as he hands over the last of the three packages of frozen food, waiting on his opinion of what they should eat.  
  
“Damn… he really does have the good shit,” Leon says in awe, looking over each of the packages individually. “Les’ go with these. I like Pizza Pockets. … No, wait, tha’s not what they’re called, is it…? Rolled pizza?”  
  
Raihan snorts, snatching the pick from Leon’s raised hand as he brings it along to glance through the cabinets for plates. “Y’already so sloshed y’can’t remember what Pizza Rolls are called, mate? ‘Nd you got me all excited for a challenge.”  
  
“It _is_ a challenge.” Leon’s saying firmly, and while Raihan’s mostly sure he continues to talk, he doesn’t necessarily pay mind to the words in his hunt for plates.  
  
“Shite, this bloke not own any dishes?” He turns back to face the general direction of the party. “Fuck you, mate, you’re ruinin’ _everythin’_.”  
  
He sees Leon shake his head from the edge of his vision and the man huffs.  
  
“Oh… Don’t microwaves have plates in ‘em? Y’know,” Leon demonstrates a spinning motion with his hand, though the shape is more of a… long circle. What’s that called, again? “ _Those_? We can use that. Just… put ‘em on.”  
  
Raihan considers the option, probably more than he ought to. It doesn’t sound all that bad, but, “Let’s leave that for… ‘worst-case-scenario’, yeah? Y’heard ‘im earlier, right? We damage it ‘n he’ll likely make us buy a whole new one. Dunno ‘bout you, but, I ain’t got those kinds of funds.”  
  
“Kinds of funds fer what?”  
  
Raihan about jumps clear out of his skin, nearly dropping the slowly defrosting bag of Pizza Rolls as he whirls around to the quiet yet startling voice suddenly right behind him.  
  
“Jesus _Christ_ , Marnie,” Raihan sighs as his heart rate slows back down. Why do they both have to be quiet as all hell? “Funds to buy y’all a new microwave ‘cause we can’t find plates.”  
  
“Plates, Marn. _Plates_.”  
  
The teenager stares the both of the adult men down blanky before moving past them, opening a cabinet he’d already tried before she steps aside and gestures to the plethora of all kinds of dishware.  
  
“ _Oh_ , that’s _brilliant_ , Marn. You’re a life-saver. D’ya want some?”  
  
“You _saved_ us, you ought t’have some,” as Raihan rips open the bag, with an embarrassing amount of difficulty, he glances over as Leon tugs Marnie in to a one-armed embrace around the shoulders. “You’re gonna, right? You’re sharin’ the Rolled Pizzas with us?”  
  
Marnie, for the briefest moment, looks uncomfortable. Before he can mention as much to Leon, her shoulders and expression relax and she’s wearing a familiar exasperated but fond look. Raihan’s seen it too many times on her brother.  
  
“... Sure. I’ll be takin’ ‘em upstairs, though,” she says as he puts the loaded plate into the microwave. “Party’s overwhelmin’, ‘n I’m studyin’ with Gloria right now.”  
  
“Oh?” Raihan can’t stop the teasing tone or smirk. “ _Just_ the two of you?”  
  
There’s a faint dusting of pink on Marnie’s cheeks. He’s not been over since Piers begrudgingly informed the group chat his sister was ‘unfortunately’ dating the other girl. Unfortunate not because it was Gloria, the kid is a little much but is fundamentally good, but because his precious baby sister is beginning to mature into her own little adult life.  
  
Raihan teased at least Piers didn’t have to worry about being an uncle anytime soon and that got his number blocked for a solid week.  
  
“We’re studying,” Marnie says, voice soft even though her tone is firm, and he accepts it with a nod.  
  
“What responsible kids,” Raihan says and his attention is rerouted to the microwave as it dings politely.  
  
He opens the door and reaches for the plate, pulling it out. With bare ass hands. On the absolutely blistering hot plate of steaming Pizza Rolls. With a yelp he nearly throws the plate the rest of the way down onto the counter, the distance so small it remains intact. A couple of the rolls do bounce off, though, and one ends up on the floor.  
  
“UNLIKE ME! FUCK, _OW!!_ ”  
  
“Oh jeez, mate! Are you okay?!”  
  
“Hah, yeah! Totally cool, ahah—! DO I LOOK OKAY?!” Raihan can’t help snapping as tears well in his eyes.  
  
He aggressively waves his stinging hands Leon’s way as he passes by in order to get to the sink, Marnie slipping through the other way. He elbows the faucet on and immediately throwing his hands underneath the stream.  
  
“OH, OF COURSE THIS PRICK HAS IT ON HOT,” he somehow shouts and whines at the same time, slapping the lever to turn the water cold. “God, fuck…”  
  
“I’ll - I’ll get you some ice!”  
  
“YOU—” Raihan’s distinctly becoming aware of his yelling. Oi, what’s all that about, huh? Yeah, this shite hurts something awful, but, how is that any excuse to be blowing out people’s eardrums? “You do that!”  
  
Time does this weird thing, then. Raihan blearily hears a… cold kind of crinkling from behind him and then all of a sudden Leon’s tumbling into him, leaning into his side.  
  
“Oops, sorry! Here y’go, some ice fer the burns.”  
  
It’s then Leon carefully pulls his hands from under the water, plopping an impromptu compress against his palms. Wait, is that… the Pizza Rolls bag? Filled with ice and tied at the top?   
  
His brain doesn’t allow him to fully process the feeling of the thick, damp plastic because in the next moment Leon’s hands are cupping his own around the ice pack, holding them there. His broad, strong hands that are so warm and all-encompassing despite the size difference. Oh, shite. Shite, shite, _shite_.  
  
“U-uh, yeah,” He stammers, and that’s all he has at first.  
  
Leon leaning in closer to get a better grip startles him into panickedly rambling more, “Y-yeah! No, uh… Thanks, bruv. And… Sorry ‘bout all the yelling. Wasn’t very cool of me, yeah?”  
  
Raihan laughs easy and only a little awkward despite the complete and total internal freak-out he’s currently beginning to have because _holy fucking hell his best friend/crush is plastered against him and holding his hands.  
  
_ “Mmm,” Leon’s humming, dropping his head down to rest against Raihan’s shoulder.  
  
 _Oh god, oh shit, oh fuuuckkk_.  
  
He tries his best to not go all stiff at the contact, he really does. It isn’t Leon’s fault Raihan enjoys even the innocent contact way too much. _Way too fucking much_. Especially with the way his unbelievably soft hair brushes against his neck and arm, clean and scented from his pre-party shower.  
  
“—‘S okay. I’ve got a much higher pain tolerance, so I can’t relate t’the anger of gettin’ hurt,” Leon laughs with a teasing edge to the tone.  
  
“Oi, if yer gonna make fun of me, get off,” Raihan bites with amusement in his tone.  
  
He’s really hoping he doesn’t actually go anywhere, though.  
  
Leon’s scoffing, lightly pushing into him. “Don’t think so, mate. I can do _whatever_ I want. Yer hands are all busy holdin’ an ice pack.”  
  
His heart stutters erratically against the inside of his chest as Leon squeezes his hands before the hold drops away. He watches the other’s attention catch on the water running this entire time before reaching over to turn it off.  
  
“ _Prick_. Takin’ advantage of me in my time of weakness, huh?” Raihan asks with a hint of faux disappointment in his voice, internally relieved to have a little bit of room to breathe. He cautiously removes the makeshift cold compress and inspects one palm at a time. Not too bad.  
  
“Nnnooo, of course n—… Oh! The Rolled Pockets.”  
  
"Careful with 'em. They're vicious."  
  
“Aw, are you afraid of a ‘lil Rolled Pocket?” Leon asks teasingly as he steps up to the counter and tossed one of the rolls into his mouth. “Oh, they’re _so vicious._ ”  
  
“You lookin’ for a fight, ‘s that it?”   
  
Raihan sidles right up on next to Leon, leaning back against the counter to swipe two of the cooled pizza bites before he tosses them straight into his mouth  
  
“‘M always lookin’ for a good tussle,” Leon answers simply, eating another one of the bites. “Oh, how’re yer hands?”  
  
Before Raihan’s even processed the question, Leon is shifting to face him. He, for the second time tonight holy crap, is taking a hold of his hands to turn them around and inspect the palms. A thumb brushes over one of them.  
  
“No permanent damage, by some miracle,” Raihan says dryly, turning towards Leon, as his entire body heats up, wiggling his fingers as if to show them off. “See? Almost completely healed already. All ready t’fight—”  
  
Leon knees him directly in the middle of his inner thigh, straight in the sciatic nerve. Pain zips up through his hip and straight down all the way to the tips of his toes and his knee buckles and completely gives out. There are hands catching him under the arms before he has a chance to go anywhere, though, and it’s all he can do to stare up at the man with wide eyes as his jaw hangs open and blood quickly rushes south.  
  
“Yer too easy, mate. What was that ‘bout a ‘challenge’?”  
  
Raihan’s only answer is to continue gaping dumbfoundedly. Yeah, all right. So Leon’s been a muay thai slash mixed martial arts champion since age ten. The man’s built like an ox. But, it’s not often he’s on the other side of that strength, and it’s easy to forget when they’ve been friends since childhood and he himself is a whole head taller.  
  
“God, that was _hot_.”  
  
Leon blinks. Then Raihan blinks. Wait. Wait, he… Did he? Say that? Out loud? Not just in his head? He must’ve, because the other reacted and is now… laughing, as he lifts him back to his feet. It’s not unkind or mocking, just… amused.  
  
“Thanks, I know,” Leon says as he pats Raihan’s chest, seemingly in an attempt to straighten out his shirt. “Yer hot too fer takin’ it like that.”  
  
That… doesn’t make a load of sense. Or does it? Is he too sober to understand? Or so drunk it makes _too_ much sense…? Raihan doesn’t have an inkling. He’s lightheaded and dizzy and oh so fucking grateful he opted for the ultra-baggy shirt plus tight pants combo when leaving earlier else otherwise he’d probably have to explain the partial boner he’s sporting just from that. This is gonna haunt his dreams and private moments for at least the next couple months.  
  
The pat on his shoulder brings him back and Raihan hazily notices the way in which Leon’s fixedly watching him almost sleepily.  
  
“Raihan…” Leon says, gently and wistfully, as he raises his hands to cup either side of his face, thumbs carefully stroking across the skin. “Yer so pretty…”  
  
Raihan feels as though both his knees are going to give out with no outside help. He braces himself against the counter, and a hand knocks into the plate behind him.  
  
“Oh!” Leon’s hands drop and he attempts to peer over Raihan’s shoulder, then around him. “We fergot ‘bout the rolled pockets…”  
  
Leon presses flush against him from collarbone to thighs as he reaches behind him to blindly grab at the by-now cold snacks. Raihan is barely able to bite down on his bottom lip fast enough to stifle the automatic and unconscious groan that threatens escaping his throat. If he knew any better, he would be inclined to think maybe all this was planned, done purposely. But, for lack of better words, Leon is an oblivious beefcake who is disappointingly straight.  
  
Leon’s hand returns with a Pizza Roll after several attempts and he remains leaned against Raihan as he ate.  
  
Yeah, okay, _he can’t do this_.  
  
Grabbing a hold of Leon’s stupidly delicious waist, Raihan turns them so he’s no longer trapped against the countertop and inserts enough space between Leon and him that he doesn’t have to be tortured with feeling the other’s muscles. But how Raihan would love to keep his hands in place and…  
  
 _No! What did I say?! None of those thoughts, none! Not with him right-fucking-here!!  
  
_ “I,” Raihan starts to say, the one syllable rough and slurred, “need more booze.”  
  
He sees Leon try to quickly chew the bites he’s been consistently shoveling into his mouth as Raihan steps back.  
  
“Oh, that sounds good. Me too,” Leon gasps, thumping his chest as he partially chokes yet again, “this time make it somethin’ that don’t taste like shite, yeah?”  
  
Raihan nods, both it and his laugh short and awkward because he really needs a minute to pull himself back together. “You’ve got it, mate. Stay put, a’ight?”  
  
“Okaaay.”  
  
He leaves Leon leaning back against the counter as he resumes picking at the pizza rolls. Stalking out of the relative quiet of the kitchen, Raihan releases the breath he was unconsciously holding and allows the dim space, strobe lights, and deep bass of the loud music to distract him from the previous fiasco.  
  
For once, he’s extraordinarily grateful for Leon’s immense density rivaling that of a cumulonimbi. It means his blunder has gone completely unnoticed and will fail to be remembered. That’s really more for which than he could’ve asked. Only issue is Raihan’s still very much hard and he doesn’t want to go back in there until things calm down. He could dip into the bathroom, or hell, even an unused room and do something about it. The thought is tempting, and he considers it as he makes a new drink for each of them.  
  
Luckily, he becomes so engrossed in the process that it’s no longer an issue. Not that he returns to Leon remembering it was even a problem, anyway. All he’s thinking is how utterly whipped he is.  
  
“Whatcha make me this time?” Leon asks as he straightens up from the counter to take the partially full cup from Raihan.  
  
“... Dunno. But, this one’s red. With less alcohol, more juice, ‘n, uh…” Raihan points with his hand holding his own drink to the lemon he’d stuck onto the rim of Leon’s drink. “That… thing. Whassit? Li… Lime? Limen…?”  
  
Despite the raised brow, Leon takes a happy sip of the drink.  
  
“Much better!” he exclaims, beaming. “‘S nice ‘n sweet, jus’ like you.”  
  
Raihan inhales sharp enough his ribs hurt.  
  
The main problem, though, is he’s mid-sip when it happens. Rum and Coke shoot straight down his airway and the combined burn of alcohol with the fizzing of the soda triggers his gag reflex and he’s sputtering coughs.  
  
 _Fucking shit that hurts like a bitch coming back up through the sinuses.  
  
_ “Oh _fuck_ ,” Leon’s laugh his startled out of him as he jumps, spilling some on his shirt. “Fuck, mate.”  
  
He quickly sets down his drink before grabbing Raihan’s, placing it next to his own. Now freed from caring about his cup, he doubles over to cough into the crook of his elbow until he’s able to get all the liquids out.  
  
Raihan hears Leon snort and the hand he hadn’t realized was on his back disappears, voice muffled when he speaks, “Sorry, ‘s not funny, but…”  
  
“Yer right, ‘s _not_ funny,” he manages, still hunched as he glances up at Leon. Wiping his mouth with his wrist, he straightens all the way up. “But, really? ‘Nice ‘n sweet’? D’ya even _know_ me, bruv?”  
  
“I do!” Leon declares proudly, snatching his drink off the counter. “We’ve been friends fer so long, I’ve gotten t’know y’well ‘nough. ‘N you’ve made me two whole drinks. _Two_ —”  
  
Raihan watches as Leon holds up two fingers, beaming as he proudly displays the digits.  
  
“—So, yer a pretty swell guy, mate.”  
  
“... Uh-huuuhhh,” Raihan drawls in disbelief as he stares at Leon, reaching over to drag his previously-stolen cup over in order to take a long and slow measured sip. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “No wonder I’m never seein’ y’go out on dates. Yer game’s _bad_.”  
  
“Psh! My game‘s not _bad_. I’ve jus’ not got the time, ‘s all.”  
  
“Y’are pretty booked up, what with classes ‘n yer… Martial arts… thing. Doesn’t make yer game any better, though.”  
  
“Well, I don’t see _you_ goin’ on many dates, either.”  
  
“Not a lot of blokes into, y’know. Other blokes. ‘Sides, when y’fancy someone already, goin’ out with others innit the same.”  
  
“Oh?!” Leon exclaims, midway in pulling himself up onto the counter. He makes himself comfortable, cup back in his hand. “Yer into someone?! Who’s the lucky guy?”  
  
… Ah.  
  
“Ah,” Raihan says, soft, a self-depreciating grin tugging the corners of his lips. The sharp tip of his canine peeks through, and his gaze drifts down into the dark and occasionally bubbly cocktail in his hand.  
  
“Well. ‘S nuthin’, really. I mean, okay, y’know… Not _nuthin’_ , but… I’ve gotta good reason t’believe he don’t swing that way, and, even if he _did_ …” Raihan lets his eyes drift from the rum and coke to Leon, staying locked on as he takes a slow sip from his cup. “Bloke’s _dense_. Could kneel in front of ‘im with a bouquet of roses, professin’ m’love ‘n he’d still be clueless.”  
  
“What a shame,” Leon sighs, raising his cup but stopping part of the way there. “Y… Y’should tell ‘im. Like, I dunno… really tell ‘im. Or, at least ask if he… ‘swings’ that way. Whassit’s gonna hurt?”  
  
 _Everything?  
  
_ But, his head’s all fuzzy. It feels light, as does his entire body. In fact, it really feels like Raihan is splitting into a least three separate entities. It’s the physical manifestation of what focusing a lens looks like. The floor very much feels as though someone’s sliding a piece of paper under him and he’s struggling to keep both on it and upright.  
  
“... A’ight.”  
  
His whole body is flushed with heat, from the alcohol and the subject, and his heart pounds as he steps closer.  
  
The common sense centers of his brain are beginning to shut down and turn off, failing him. The only thing even remotely functioning is a small, rational part of him that realizes it’s very likely his friend’s way too sloshed to even have a chance of remembering anything from tonight tomorrow morning.  
  
“Then, y’into blokes, mate?”  
  
Leon looks… surprised? Oh, that’s not good. He appears thoughtful, as if considering the question seriously. Which is definitely way worse than simply ‘not good’. But, as the other raises his gaze, he snorts and tucks a foot under one of his thighs.  
  
“Good one! Y’almost got me! Yer gonna do great when y’tell ‘im.”  
  
As he giggles, tipping back the rest of his drink, Raihan heaves a heavily weighted sigh as allows his head to flop forward with a nervous and lopsided grin all to himself.  
  
Raihan shakes his head, the quirk of his lips relieved. “Thanks, mate.”  
  
 _No wonder it’s called ‘liquid courage’... Not that he needed to say any of that, holy shit.  
  
_ “Think I’m rejoinin’ the party,” Raihan says once he downs what remains of his drink, as well. “Wanna come or nah?”  
  
“Oh fuck yeah,” Leon says, excitedly, and jumps down off of the countertop. He staggers in place, catching himself on the edge of the black… granite? Marble? Raihan’s got no idea, but the hand that shot out in case he’s got to help droops when the other manages all on his own.  
  
“I _did_ come t’hang with you, mostly.”  
  
“Can’t get enough of the Great Raihan at home, huh? Very understandable, mate. Can’t blame y’for it.”  
  
Leon laughs, elbowing him straight in the ribs as he catches up to join Raihan in ditching the kitchen. “Guess yer right! Just somethin’ ‘bout you I can’t get enough of.”  
  
Raihan throws a wink Leon’s way as he pushes through the door, tongue peeking out teasingly.  
  
If he stops by the makeshift bar to fix yet another drink, well. Maybe he’s overdoing it, but something’s really telling him he’ll regret the night otherwise. Or maybe the tiny, muffled voice is saying its the heavy drinking that he’ll come to regret…  
  
Well, what’s really the worst thing that can happen?

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos/comments/ect are super appreciated!! please keep an eye out for the next chapter in which half of the leaders play truth or dare and possible sauciness may make it in...?


End file.
